THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


ANITY   VERSES. 


Begot  of  nothing  but  rain  fantasy? 


RoMl.O    AMI     Jn.IKT. 


/TAV./.SV//-:/'  J-'OK  'mi-:  M'THOK. 


NEW    YORK: 

K.   I'..   PATTERSON,   PUBLISHER. 
16  CKOAR  STRKKT. 

1876. 


Copyrighted,  1876,  by  !•'.  1>.  I'ATTKKSO.V 


I'rint  of  S.  B.  L.EVERICH, 

Now  Vnrk. 


v5^ 


To  those  who  aid  in  forming  what  is  termed 
"  Society "  «/  ///^  great  summer  resorts,  where 
fashion,  frivolity,  and  folly  seem  to  reign  supreme, 
and  the  greatest  aim  in  life  to  be  a  new  dress,  a 
flirtation,  or  the  latest  figure  in  the  "  German  /' 
but  where,  underlying  this  apparent  worldliness, 
are  often  true  hearts,  generous  natures,  and  a 
good  sense,  that  the  faults  of  an  artificial  system 
of  education  have  been  unable  to  crush  out. 

BOSTON,  Nov.,  1876. 


626194 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


AFTER  CROQUET         5 

AFTER  THE  HOP 21 

A  MODERN  ENGAGEMENT 25 

BEFORE  THE  HOP   .        .        .        .   •    .        .        .        .  17 

BLASTED  HOPES .41 

BY  THE  SEA 35 

DRIFTING 39 

FLIRTATION .        .  n 

FORGET-ME-NOT 60 

IN  CHURCH :  8 

MASKED  BATTERIES 57 

ON  THE  PIAZZA 28 

ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE 76 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


PARTING 37 

PHAETHON'S  DRIVE 71 

ST.  AUGUSTINE 53 

TEACHING  BILLIARDS 13 

"  TEMPORA  MUTANTUR" — "  LABUNTUR  ANNI  "      .        .  31 

THE  FISHERMAN'S  REASON 46 

THE  HOP 19 

THE  JUDGMENT  OF  PARIS 65 

THE  OLD  STORY 51 

THE  SEA-WALL           49 


AFTER   CROQUET. 


"  Such  partners  as  Lou  and  I  had,  Nell, 

This  morning  in  playing  croquet ! 
That  odious  little  De  Sautelle, 

How  stupid  to  ask  him  to  play  ! 
And  then  that  prim  old  Mr.  Mead 

— He  scarce  knew  his  mallet  from  ball- 
Invite  us  to  join  them,  indeed, 

We  didn't  feel  flattered  at  all. 


It  's  just  like  those  Jones'  girls,  my  dear, 
To  get  the  nice  men  on  their  side, 

And  then  to  ask  us ;  but  't  was  clear 
We  got  the  attention  ;  they  tried 


AFTER   CROQUET. 

To  keep  their  friends  all  in  their  wake, 
'T  was,  '  Oh  !  Mr.  Gray,  only  see 

Where  my  ball  is  ! '  and  '  Please,  Mr.  Blake, 
Why  won't  you  croquet  this  for  me  ?  ' 


I  was  cross :  but  it  was  sort  of  fun 

To  watch  those  manoeuvring  girls  ; 
Especially  when,  the  game  done, 

The  one  with  the  horrible  curls 
Asked  her  partner  to  get  her  a  glass 

Of  water ;  then  signed  with  her  fan 
To  her  sister  and  Blake  as  they  pass — 

Before  I'd  run  after  a  man  ! 


But  the  best  of  it  was,  both  the  men, 

As  soon  as  they  decently  could, 
Bade  the  Jones'  girls  good  morning,  and  then 

Joined  us  as  we  lingering  stood 


AFTER    CROQUET. 

Just  stupidly  trying  to  talk 

With  our  partners, — Oh !  what  a  bore  ! — 
And  carried  us  off  for  a  walk 

Along  by  the  rocks  on  the  shore. 

And  the  Jones'  girls  could  see,  all  the  time ; 

They  watched  us, — Oh  !  was  n't  I  glad  !— 
And  such  a  flirtation — sublime — 

As  Ned — Mr,  Gray — and  I  had  ! 
'Tis  really  provoking, — a  shame — 

He  's  going  to  leave  here  to-day  ; 
I  Ve  promised  to  walk  to  the  train  : 

Excuse  me, — he  's  coming  this  way" 


IN   CHURCH. 


DURING  THE  LITANY. 


"  I'm  glad  we  got  here  early,  Nell, 

We  "re  not  obliged  to  sit  to-day 
Beside  those  horrid  Smith  girls, — Well, 

I  'm  glad  they  go  so  soon  away. 
How  does  this  cushion  match  my  dress  ? 

/  think  it  looks  quite  charmingly. 
'  Bowed  sweetly  to  the  Smiths  ?  '     Oh  !  yes — 
{Responds}   .   .    .    '  Pride,  vanity,  hypocrisy, 

Good  Lord,  deliver  us.' 


8 


IN  CHURCH. 

I  hate  those  haughty  Courtenays  ! 

I  'm  sure  they  need  n't  feel  so  fine, 
Above  us  all, — for  mamma  says 

Their  dresses  are  n't  as  nice  as  mine. 
And  one  's  engaged,  so,  just  for  fun, 
To  make  her  jealous, — try  to  win 
Her  lover, — show  her  how  't  is  done — 
[Responds}    .   .    '  From  hatred,  envy,  mischief,  sin, 
Good  Lord,  deliver  us.' 

To-day  the  rector  is  to  preach 
In  aid  of  missionary  work ; 
He  '11  say  he  hopes  and  trusts  that  each 

Will  nobly  give,  nor  duty  shirk. 
I  hate  to  give.     But  then  one  must, 

You  know  we  have  a  forward  seat ; 
People  can  see, — they  will,  I  trust — 
[Responds]    .    .    '  From  want  of  charity,  deceit, 
Good  Lord,  deliver  us.' 


IN  CHURCH. 

Did  you  know  Mr.  Gray  had  gone  ? 

That  handsome  Mr.  Rogers  too  ? 
Dear  me  !     We  shall  be  quite  forlorn 

If  all  the  men  leave, — and  so  few  ! 
I  trust  that  we  with  Cupid's  darts 

May  capture  some, — let  them  beware — 
[.Responds]    .    .   '  Behold  the  sorrows  of  our  hearts, 

And,  Lord,  with  mercy  hear  our  prayer/  " 


FLIRTATION. 


They  stroll  by  the  sands  together, 

They  sit  on  the  rocks  below, 
Or  wander  among  the  heather, 
In  the  lovely  summer  weather  : 

With  voices  soft  and  low 
They  talk  of  the  present  pleasure, 

And  look  in  each  others  eyes 
As  if  there  they  found  the  measure 
Of  all  their  hopes, — a  treasure, 

An  earthly  Paradise. 

In  whispers  sweet  and  broken, 
With  hand-clasp  or  a  sigh, 


ii 


FLIRTATION. 

He  begs  perchance  some  token, 
Remembrance, — love — unspoken, — 

A  kiss  when  no  one  's  by  : 
She  droops  her  eyes,  as,  bending 

He  gazes  on  her  face, 
A  charm  to  beauty  lending, 
While  consciously  defending 

Her  modesty  with  grace. 

Then  murmurs  words  half  seeming 

An  echo  to  his  own, 
Her  face  with  smiles  now  beaming, 
'T  would  seem  two  hearts  are  dreaming 

Of  love  and  that  alone. 
Alas,  for  true  love's  passion  ! 

— In  this  enlightened  age- 
Now  quite  gone  out  of  fashion — 
'T'  is  only  a  flirtation, 

And  she  threw  down  the  gage. 


12 


TEACHING   BILLIARDS. 


"  I  've  looked  for  you  everywhere,  Joe, 

Pray  where  in  the  world  have  you  been  ? 
— That  walk  with  the  Gray  girls,  you  know. 

"  By  Jove,  I  forgot  it  ! — But  then 
I  've  had  such  a  glorious  time  ! 

— Must  make  my  excuses  to  Nell, 
She  '11  forgive  me  I  know — ;  it  was  prime 

Teaching  billiards  to  little  Lou  Bell ! 


She  's  lovely, — a  figure  petite, 

Laughing  eyes,  a  complexion  as  fair 

And  pure  as  a  lily,  mouth  sweet — 
'  Rave  over  her  ! ' — Well,  I  declare 


TEACHING  BILLIARDS. 

I  never  discovered  one  half 

The  charm  of  her  figure  and  face 

Till  to  day ;  now  admit — without  chaff — 
You  'd  like  to  have  been  in  my  place. 

To  begin  with,  her  cue  must  be  chalked ; 

While  doing  it,  looked  in  her  face, 
Said  lots  of  sweet  things, — Oh !  I  talked 

Of  beauty  and  feminine  grace  ; 
Same  as  told  her  I  could  n't  resist, 

— Fascination,  you  know,  and  all  that — 
And  the  nice  easy  caroms  I  missed ! 

To  lengthen  the  game  and  the  chat. 

How  I  praised  all  the  shots  that  she  made, 
— Not  many  to  praise,  on  my  word — 

And  somehow  my  arm  once  delayed 

Round  her  waist, — and  she  never  demurred- 


TEACHING  BILLIARDS. 

As  I  taught  her  to  guide  her  cue  right 

In  making  some  difficult  shot. 
'  Very  pleasant  /'     Old  boy,  such  delight 

As  ne'er  before  fell  to  my  lot." 

Then  to  watch  for  the  proud,  happy  smile, 

At  each  easy  carom  she  made, 
— It  happened  but  once  in  a  while, 

When  the  balls  near  together  were  laid — • 
And  to  see  the  pleased  look  in  her  eyes 

When  the  balls  by  a  fortunate  kiss 
Made  a  count ; — and  the  joy,  the  surprise, 

To  think  that  it  was  n't  a  miss. 


You  're yawning,  by  Jove  !     '  You  don't  care 

About  my  flirtations  ?  ' — Polite, 
On  my  word !     When  I  thought  the  affair 

Would  please  you.    '  It  did  me  ? '    Yes,  quite. 


TEACHING  BILLIARDS. 

Well,  don't  interfere,  my  dear  boy, 
— My  property  now — keep  away  : 

Flirtation  was  made  to  enjoy. 

'  Fall  in  love  ? '     I  guess  not,  but  I  may. 


BEFORE   THE   HOP. 


"  Nine  o'clock  !     I  must  hurry, — so  late  ! 

Pray  where  can  that  hair-dresser  be  ? 
I  told  him  to  come  here  at  eight, 

As  soon  as  I'd  taken  my  tea  : 
I  '11  never  be  ready  to-night ; 

— Just  like  a  man  !.    Always  behind — 
But  I  won't  go  down  dressed  like  a  fright, 

And  my  card  is  all  filled, — never  mind. 

Jane,  lay  my  things  out  on  a  chair. 

'  Pink  silk  ?  '     No,  I  've  worn  that  before  ; 
White  muslin.     Don't  crush  it !     Take  care  ! 

And  don't  let  it  drag  on  the  floor ! 


BEFORE    THE  HOP. 

1  Cherry  sash  ?  '    Yes,  the  wide  one, — you  know, — 

The  other  is  spotted  ;  and  see 
To  my  gloves — worn  'em  once — it  won't  show — 

There  's  my  fan  on  the  lounge — let  it  be. 

Dressed  at  last !    And  now  where  's  my  bouquet  ? 

Pink  rosebuds  and  smilax  !     How  sweet ! 
I  must  thank  Mr.  Jones,  by  the  way  ; — 

A  note  would  be  pretty  and  neat. 
My  card,  Jane;  be  quick  !     Do  you  hear? 

I  hope  the  ball  has  n't  begun  ! 
Who  's  first  on  the  list  ?     Mr.  Vere  ? 

I  do  enjoy  dancing !     Such  fun  !  " 


THE    HOP. 

.     .     .     "  Nunc  pede  libero 
Pulsanda  tellus." — Horace, 


The  parlors  are  blazing  with  light, 
And  soft  on  the  midsummer  night 

Float  Strauss's  sweet  strains ; 
While  busy  feet  whirl  in  the  dance, 
And  eyes  bright  with  happiness  glance, 

Supreme,  pleasure  reigns. 


Without,  the  moon,  lovely  and  grand, 
Is  spreading  o'er  ocean  and  strand 
A  silvery  sheen  ; 


THE  HOP. 


Illuming  a  gayly  dressed  throng 
Who  walk  the  verandahs  along, 
— A  picturesque  scene. 


The  fountains  in  diamond-like  spray 
Plashing  softly  ;  the  moonbeams,  at  play 

With  the  drops,  shining  bright ; 
The  lawn,  with  its  brilliant-hued  (lowers  ; 
The  headland ;  the  light-house  high  towers, 

Lend  charm  to  the  sight. 


Alas,  that  our  joys  cannot  last  ! 
For  ever  to  days  of  the  past 

Fond  memory  clings  ; 
Too  swiftly  the  hours  go  by  ; 
In  ?pring-time  of  youth,  pleasures  fly 

On  lightest  of  wings. 


20 


AFTER   THE 'HOP. 


"  Do  come  in  and  talk  awhile,  Kitty, 

It's  only  a  quarter  past  one  ; 
I  'm  not  a  bit  sleepy ;  are  you,  dear  ? 

Oh  !     Didn't  we  have  lots  of  fun  ! 
Take  the  easy  chair, — just  wait  a  minute — 

No, — tip  the  things  out  on  the  floor ; 
I  '11  pick  'em  all  up  in  the  morning  :  - 

This  dressing  's  a  horrible  bore ! 

Did  you  see  Susie  Sprague  !     Such  a  dress,  dear ! 

She  really  wore  three  shades  of  blue  ; 
And  one  does  n't  suit  her  complexion  : 

Such  taste !     Why,  if  she  only  knew 


21 


AFTER  THE  HOP. 

How  to  dress,  and  arrange  her  hair  nicely, 
She  really  might  make  quite  a  show. 

'  Don't  think  so?  '     Perhaps  I  'm  mistaken  ; 
It  's  certain  we  never  shall  know. 


Did  you  meet  Mr.  Waite  ?  —  new  arrival  —  , 

His  waltzing  is  simply  divine  ! 
He  asked  for  a  dance  ;  —  't  wasn't  fair,  but 

I  scratched  off  poor  little  Tom  Brine, 
Gave  him  his,  —  made  some  paltry  excuses 

When  Tom  came,  —  must  surely  have  seen 
How  things  stood  —  ;  sorry,  —  can't  be  helped  now  tho' 

—  It  really  was  awfully  mean  > 


What  diamonds  that  stout  Mrs.  Smith  wore  ! 

If  I  were  as  ugly  as  she 
I  'd  really  dress  plainer  ;  she  's  horrid  ! 

So  vulgar  't  is  easy  to  see 


22 


i  AFTER  THE  HOP. 

By  the  colors  and  jewels  she  puts  on ! 

— Silk  dresses  for  morning  attire, — 
White  boots  for  croquet, — bracelets  bathing, 

For  her  to  our  set  to  aspire  ! 

I  waltzed  twice  with  Mr.  De  Lancey ; 

I  had  to, — he  looked  at  my  card — , 
'Twas  the  first  of  the  evening ;  the  dances 

Were  n't  taken, — 'twas  awfully  hard  ! 
He  begged  so,  I  gave  him  another, 

— Already  I'd  given  him  one — , 
It  's  awful  to  be  a  wall-flower ; 

Any  partner  is  better  than  none  ! 


What !   Sleepy  ! — Or  thinking  of  him,  dear  ?  " 
"Him  !    Who,  pray  ?  "    "  Why,  everyone  saw  ! 

Don't  blush  !     If  it  is  n't  for  spooning 
I'd  like  to  know  what  men  are  for! 


AFTER  THE  HOP. 

You  led  him  on  well ;  did  he  offer 

Undying  affection  and  love  ? 
Not  angry  ! — What !    Going  already  ? 

Good-night,  dear;  your  rooms  's  just  above. 


A  MODERN  ENGAGEMENT. 


Scene  :  hotel  piazza, 
Moon  is  shining  bright ; 

Time  :  about  eleven 
Of  a  summer  night. 


Dramatis  per soncR : 
Maiden  of  the  day, 

And  a  college  student, 
Handsome,  witty,  gay. 


A   MODERN  ENGAGEMENT. 


Object  :  a  flirtation, 
Hours  to  beguile  ; 

Reason  :  time  is  heavy, 
And  to  be  in  style. 


So  they  sit  together 

In  a  quiet  nook, 
Compliments  exchanging, 

She  with  downward  look, 


Till  he — blame  the  moonlight- 
Calls  her  his  adored  ; 

She — the  moonlight  also — 
Takes  him  at  his  word. 


26 


A    MODERN  ENGAGEMENT. 


So  their  troth  is  plighted, 
Lightly  woven  strand, 

Holding  them  united 
As  a  rope  of  sand. 


Carelessly  they  wear  it 
For  a  month  or  more ; 

Then  the  chain  is  broken, 
All  is  as  before. 


Both  of  them  delighted 

To  be  free  again  ; 
Each  has  learned  the  lesson 

Love  is  hard  to  feign. 


ON   THE   PIAZZA. 


"  Did  I  ever  tell  you  the  story,  Ned, 

Of  how  I  proposed  to  Nellie  there  ? 
*  No  ? ' — Let  me  see — it  was  years  ago — 
It's  really  funny — Oh  !  Nell  won't  care. 


'T  was  on  the  piazza. — right  here — one  morn, 
That  's  why  I  thought  of  it  now,  you  know- 
Just  after  breakfast ;  the  place  was  full, 
Talking,  or  walking  to  and  fro. 


28 


ON  THE  PIAZZA. 


I  was  head  over  ears  in  love  with  Nell ; 

'T  was  plain  to  all,  but  I  could  n't  speak; 
Somehow,  whenever  I  tried  it  on 

'  Vox  faucibus  haesitj — my  heart  was  weak. 


We  were  promenading  here  up  and  down, 
Among  the  idlers,  Nell  and  I ; 

My  face  aglow  with  the  joy  I  felt 
In  her  presence  :  a  sailor  passing  by 


With  shells  for  sale — must  have  seen  my  looks — 
Shouted  to  me, — he  stopped  us  too — , 

'  Shells  of  the  ocean,  the  deep  blue  sea ! 
Buy  one,  sir,  for  your  sweetheart  j  do!" 


29 


ON  THE  PIAZZA. 


Smiles,  and  laughter  but  half  suppressed, 
Greeted  the  sally  from  every  side  ; 

Nell  was  crimson,  her  eyes  cast  down, 
While  I  was  filled  with  a  conscious  pride. 


I  felt  inspired !  I  seized  the  chance, 
And  mustered  courage  to  whisper  low, 

Shall  I  buy  a  shell  or  not?  My  fate 
Lies  in  your  answer.  It  was  n't  '  No.'  " 


"  TEMPORA   MUTANTUR." 


"  LABUNTUR  ANNI. 


Want  my  '  Odes  of  Horace  '  ?     Why, 

What  has  happened  ?     Something  strange  ! 

You  in  college  days  gone  by 

Never  read  'em, — what  a  change  ! 


'  Look  up  a  quotation  ? '     Well, 
See  the  book-case,  upper  row, 

Guess  you  '11  find  it  there, — can't  tell, 
Put  it  up  some  years  ago. 


"TEMPORA  MUTANTURr—"LABUNTUR  ANN!." 

Found  it  ?     Ah  !    What  's  that  ?  "     "  A  scrap, 
— Paper  fell  from  out  the  leaves." 

"  There  it  is, — right  in  your  lap — 
What  is  on  it  ?     Read  it,  please." 

[Reads.} 

"  ON  A  LADY'S  PORTRAIT." 


"  Thy  portrait,  tho'  I  can  but  praise, 
And  own  it's  beauty  as  I  gaze, 
But  half  does  justice  to  the  grace 
Of  thy  fair  form  and  lovely  face. 
Thine  eye,  anon  with  pleasure  bright, 
Softened  again  with  liquid  light, — 
Thy  smile,  now  brilliant,  now  subdued, 
According  to  thy  varying  mood, — 
Mien  stately  as  from  marble  hew'd, 
Yet  grace  in  every  attitude. 
Sculptor  can  form  an  image  rare, 


TEMP  OR  A  MUTANTUR."—"LABUNTUR  ANNI." 

The  artist  paint  a  portrait  fair, 
But  ne'er  can  human  art  portray 
The  features'  ever  changing  play  ; 
Nor  give  the  look,  by  touch  refined, 
Which  life  alone  can  make  divine." 


Quite  a  poet !  Why,  old  boy, 
Never  heard  of  you  that  way. 

Happy  man  !  I  wish  you  joy  ; 

Who  's  the  fair  one  ?  Named  the  day  ? 


"  Nonsense  ! — Flirting,— Kitty  White- 
Had  her  picture, — seems  absurd, 

Sat  up  writing  half  the  night. 
— First  attempt,  upon  my  word. 

Long  ago, — it  must  be  now 
Half  a  dozen  years  or  more ; 


33 


'TEMPORA  MUTANTURr—"LABUNTUR  ANNL' 

I  was  young  and  foolish  :  how 
I  did  spoon  in  days  of  yore  ! 


She  was  lovely, — fair  and  slight. 

Ran  across  her  lately, — Bah  !  " 
"  Lost  her  beauty  ?  "     "  Yes,  you  're  right ; 

Passes'!     Have  a  fresh  cigar?  " 


BY   THE   SEA. 


I  wander  by  the  ocean's  side, 

The  pale  moon  shimmers  on  the  sand ; 
White  waves  o'er  each  other  ride, 

My  brow  by  breezes  soft  is  fanned. 
A  white  hand  rests  upon  my  arm, 

A  form  and  face  beside  me  fair, 
Words  low  spoken,  voice  to  charm, 

Ah  !    A  spell  comes  o'er  me  there. 


35 


BY  THE  SEA. 


We  talk  of  affection, — the  heart, — 

At  last,  looking  into  her  eyes, 
Emboldened  I  ask,  "Must  we  part  ?  " 

With  a  look  of  the  greatest  surprise, 
But  laughing,  she  says,  "  How  absurd  ! 

What  a  capital  actor  you  are  ! 
I  '11  forgive  you  this  once  ; — on  my  word 

You  must  stop  tho';  you  're  going  too  far. 


PARTING. 


Summer  days  must  have  an  ending, 
Though  our  footsteps  homeward  tending 

Linger  while  they  may  : 
Pleasures  pass,  and  friendships  sever 
Idols  must  be  broken  ever, 

Ever,  day  by  day. 

Bright  the  hours  spent  together, 
Leaving  recollection  ever 
As  a  dream  of  joy; 


37 


PARTING. 


Heedless  are  we  of  the  morrow, 
Thinking  not  that  parting  sorrow 

May  our  hopes  destroy  : 
Living  only  in  the  present, 
Only  for  the  time  so  pleasant, 

Days  without  alloy. 


DRIFTING. 


Drifting  with  ocean's  tide, 
All  in  the  golden  sunset's  after  glow  : 
A  summer  sky  above,  the  sea  below, 
No  sound  save  tiny  wavelet's  lap  and  flow 
Against  the  wherry's  side. 


Drifting,  just  you  and  I : 
The  twilight  fading  slowly, — gone  the  sun, — 
The  stars  come  forth  and  greet  us,  one  by  one : 
Night  wraps  us  in  her  mantle, — day  is  done, 

O'er  all  deep  shadows  lie. 


39 


DRIFTING. 


Drifting  so  idly, — where  ? 
Ah  !  not  alone  on  ocean's  placid  breast ; 
A  swifter  stream — love's  current — bears  us,  blessed, 
To  fairer  shores  and  sweeter  joys  ;  our  rest 

And  happiness  is  there. 


BLASTED   HOPES. 


By  the  Eastern  sea-coast 
Weeks  flew  quickly  round ; 

And,  the  summer  ended, 
I  was  homeward  bound. 


On  the  rail  from  Portland 
Fortune  favored  me 

With  a  fair  young  lady, 
— Pleasant  company — . 


BLASTED  HOPES. 


Teeth  of  pearly  whiteness, 
Cheeks  of  lovely  hue, 

Eyes  of  sparkling  brightness, 
— Ever  changing  too — , 


Mouth  of  dewy  sweetness, 
Lips  just  made  to  kiss, 

Jaunty  hat,  concealing 

Crimps, — a  dream  of  bliss. 


She,  a  Western  lady ; 

I,  an  Eastern  man  ; 
Just  the  chance  for  flirting, 

— Capital  good  plan  ! 


42 


BLASTED  HOPES. 


Ne'er  shall  see  each  other 

Probably  again ; 
She  is  going  westward 

By  the  evening  train. 


None  will  be  the  wiser, 
Where  will  be  the  harm 

In  the  Salem  tunnel 
Stretching  out  my  arm, 


Just  as  a  protection 

To  the  lady  fair ; 
And  to  show  my  presence 

Still  beside  her  there  ! 


43 


BLASTED  HOPES. 


And,  if  it  should  happen, 
Merely  her  to  show 

That  I  think  her  lovely, 
— Kissable,  you  know — , 


I  should  steal  a  little 
Sweetness  from  her  lips, 

— As  the  bee  the  honey 
From  the  flower  sips — , 


Would  she  be  offended  ? 

Hurt,  her  maiden  pride  ? 
Or  enjoy  it  only? 

Well,  I  can't  decide. 


44 


BLASTED  HOPES. 


But  the  question  ponder 
As  the  hours  fly  ; 

And  at  last  determine 
The  affair  to  try. 


Well,  the  famous  tunnel 
Must  be  drawing  near ; 

Minutes  fly,  and  milestones, 
Still  it  don't  appear. 


Suddenly  my  spirits 

Sink, — my  hopes  are  vain — ; 
Railroad  's  not  the  "  Eastern," 

'T  is,  alas !  the  "  Maine  "  ' 


45 


THE   FISHERMAN'S   REASON 


"  Put  up  your  gold,  stranger  ; 

No  offence,  sir,  I  pray  ; 
But  when  you  Ve  met  danger — 

Death — staring  at  you, — say 
Would  you  exchange  your 
Feelings  for  pay  ? 

4  Why  did  I  do  it,'  sir  ? 

Is  my  life  worth  the  less 
That  I  should  bear  a  line 

To  a  ship  in  distress, 


46 


THE  FISHERMAN'S  REASON. 


When  all  the  odds  were 
'Gainst  me,  I  guess  ? 


'  Why  did  I  do  it,'  eh  ? 

Well,  it 's  no  story  ; 
'T  warn't  just  humanity, 

Nor  love  of  glory, 
And,  as  I  Ve  shown  you, 

'T  wasn't  for  money. 


'  Why  did  I  do  it,  then  !  ' 
Well,  I  'm  a  fisherman, 

Lonely  and  old  ;  and  when 
Danger  is  to  be  ran, — 

That 's  pretty  often — 
Why,  there  I  am. 

47 


THE  FISHERMAN'S  REASON. 


I  s'pose  you  think  it  queer ; 

But  life  is  nearly  run, 
And  the  sea  is  the  bier 

Of  father,  brother,  son  ; 
So  I  hope — danger  near, 

My  time  has  come. 

That's  the  whole  of  it,  sir ; 

I  'm  very  glad,  of  course, 
To  have  saved  lives  that  were 

Just  about  as  good  as  lost. 
But,  sir,  no  praise  nor  stir ; 

'T  ain't  worth  the  cost." 


THE    SEA-WALL. 


Between  the  dances,  one  lovely  night, 
Kate  and  I  in  the  soft  moonlight 

Along  the  sea-wall  strolled  ; 
And  though  with  love  my  heart  was  stirred, 
My  lips  had  never  breathed  the  word, 

It  still  remained  untold. 


49 


THE  SEA-WALL. 


The  path  was  narrow  ;  the  sea  below ; 
And  close  together  we  wandered  slow ; 

At  last  I  boldly  said, 
"  This  walk  is  hardly  safe  for  two;  " 
Then  whispered, —  "  What  we  ought  to  do 

Is — be  made  one, — be  wed." 


1  ST.  AUGUSTINE  HOTKL." 


THE    OLD    STORY. 


Maiden  lovely,  why  thy  blushes  ? 

Do  I  guess  thy  answer  well  ? 
Speak  to  me  the  tender  flushes 

Truer  far  than  words  can  tell  ? 


Can  I  read  the  words  unspoken 
In  those  beauteous  eyes  of  thine  ? 

Though  thy  lips  refuse  the  token, 
Says  thy  heart  that  thou  art  mine  ? 


THE  OLD  STORY. 


Never  purer  love  was  tendered  ; 

But  in  words  are  ill  expressed 
Thoughts  thy  image  has  engendered, 

Deeply  graven  in  my  breast. 


Corydon  to  fair  Alexis 

Sang  his  love  in  tuneful  lay ; 
Bold  Admetus  to  Alcestis 

Told  the  story  of  to-day. 


Love's  romance,  in  future  ages 
As  in  past,  will  still  be  new ; 

Ever  bearing  on  its  pages 
Record  of  affection  true. 


ST.    AUGUSTINE. 

[FOUNDED  1565.] 


In  the  realm  of  flowers,  a  perfumed  land, 
Girt  by  the  sea,  by  soft  winds  fanned, 
Ravaged  by  wars,  in  years  grown  old, 
Its  former  glory  a  tale  long  told, 

Stands  the  quaint  old  Spanish  city. 

The  scene  of  many  a  hard-fought  fight, 
Of  many  a  siege,  when  Spanish  might 
Was  o't-r  the  land ;  in  its  decay 
It  hath  a  beauty  to  live  alway, 
That  quaint  old  Spanish  city. 


S3 


ST.  A  UG  US  TINE. 


There  's  a  charm  in  the  ancient,  narrow  street, 
Where  lovely  dames  erst  walked  to  meet 
Cavaliers  in  the  years  gone  by, 
When  strife  of  valor  and  love  ran  high 
In  the  quaint  old  Spanish  city. 


There  's  a  charm  in  the  houses  old  and  gray, 
That  echoed  with  song  and  laughter  gay, 
When  forms  in  beauty  and  youth  sublime 
Gathered  there  in  the  olden  time, 
In  the  quaint  old  Spanish  city. 


There  's  a  charm  in  the  fortress,  mighty,  grand, 
Tho'  showing  the  ravage  of  time  and  man  ; 
Where  many  a  prisoner  once  confined, 
In  gloomy  dungeon  a  captive  pined, 
In  the  quaint  old  Spanish  city. 


54 


ST.  AUGUSTINE. 


There  's  a  charm  in  the  convent's  crumbling  wall 
In  old  cathedral,  with  turret  tall, 
With  moss-grown  roof,  and  merry  chime, 
Man  outliving,  defying  time, 

In  the  quaint  old  Spanish  city. 

There  's  a  charm  in  the  bright  and  sunny  sky, 
In  shimmering  river  and  ocean  nigh, 
In  orange  grove,  and  in  palm-tree's  shade, 
In  churchman's  cassock,  and  veiled  maid, 
In  the  quaint  old  Spanish  city. 


Its  days  of  glory  are  past  and  gone  ; 
The  roil  of  drum,  and  the  bugle-horn, 
Xo  more  shall  summon  in  stern  array 
The  warrior  bold  to  deadly  fray, 
In  the  quaint  old  Spanish  city. 


55 


ST.  AUGUSTINE. 


But  recollections  of  grandeur  past, 
Visions  of  days  when  its  lot  was  cast 
In  fairer  mould,  in  times  long  gone, 
E're  years  and  battles  had  left  forlorn 
The  quaint  old  Spanish  city, 

Haunt  the  memory  :  the  scenes  of  yore 
Seem  before  us ; — We  see  once  more, 
Born  of  its  ruin,  arise  anew 
In  strength  and  beauty  before  our  view, 
That  quaint  old  Spanish  city. 


MASKED   BATTERIES. 


If  you  '11  keep  it  secret, — honor  bright — , 
I  '11  tell  you  a  little  story,  Joe ; 

Something  that  happened  to  me  last  night 
Here  at  the  masquerade  ball,  you  know. 


You  may  have  noticed  I  've  spooned  of  late 
On  Laura  Clyde, — nothing  else  to  do — ; 

She  's  rather  pretty, — at  any  rate 
Fond  of  flirting,  and  I  am  too. 


57 


MASKED  BATTERIES. 


Laura 's  a  friend  of  my  sister  Fan ; 

Her  room  joins  mine,  and  the  walls  are  thin. 
So  I  by  accident  heard  them  plan 

Their  dresses  for  masquerading  in. 


The  ball  was  lovely,  the  costumes  fine, 
And  either  dancing  or  iced  champagne 

— Can't  say  which,  but  expect  the  wine — 
Just  a  little  confused  my  brain. 


So,  meeting  Laura — a  gypsy  maid — , 

— Knew  her  at  once  by  her  dress,  you  see,' 

I  took  her  out  for  a  promenade 
On  the  piazza  alone  with  me. 


MASKED  BATTERIES. 


*Ftirtedt '     Said  I  was  deep  in  love, 
Madly  worshipped  the  ground  she  trod, 

Vowed  it  by  all  below,  above ; 

Did  she  return  it  ? — a  word,  a  nod  ? 


The  fair  head  drooped  in  assent ;  and  I 

Snatched  off  the  mask, — with  rapture  kissed  her 

A  peal  of  laughter  was  my  reply, 

By  Jove  !     Old  boy,  /'/  was  my  sister  ! 


Laugh  at  me,  Joe  !     Don't  spare  my  pride, 
Nor  mind  my  feelings, — I  feel  so  glad 

It  was  my  sister,  not  Laura  Clyde  ; 
Heavens !     What  an  escape  I  had !  " 


59 


"FORGET-ME-NOT." 


Only  a  blue  forget-me-not, 
Faded  and  withered ;  yet  dear  to  me, 
Bringing  back  to  my  memory 
A  summer  of  pleasure  by  the  sea, 

Never  to  be  forgot. 


Only  a  flower  with  meaning  sweet, 
Given  to  me  on  the  shining  strand, 
Placed  in  mine  by  a  fair  white  hand, — 
Earth  that  day  was  a  fairy  land, — 

The  world  seemed  at  my  feet. 


60 


FORGET-ME-NOT: 


Only  a  token, — '  Remember  me  ' : 
Years  have  vanished  on  time's  swift  wings. 
Yet  ever  my  heart  with  pleasure  clings 
To  that  bright  day,  and  fondly  brings 

It  back  in  memory. 


LESSONS 


MYTHOLOGY. 


THE   JUDGMENT   OF   PARIS. 


When  Gods  met  mortals  in  the  olden  time, 

And  graced  their  feasts,  and  hob-nobbed  o'er  their 

wine ; 

When  Jupiter,  and  all  of  heavenly  birth, 
Oft  sought  enjoyment  with  the  Sons  of  Earth, 
And  deemed  it  not  beneath  them  there  to  be, 
Where  wine  was  good,  and — best  of  all — wa&fretj 

It  happened,  if  the  fable  truth  relate, 

* 
Peleus  and  Thetis  joined  the  marriage  state. 

The  wedding  was  to  be  a  grand  affair ; 

The  gods  and  goddesses  should  all  be  there ; 

And  "  best  society  "  should  be  obliged  to  say 


THE  JUDGMENT  OF  PARIS. 


It  was  the  finest  party  of  the  day. 

All  this — no  need  to  say — was  Thetis'  plan, 

Though  Peleus  paid  the  bills — unhappy  man  ! 

From  some  small  thing  springs  oft  a  great  event, 
And  woman,  innocent  of  bad  intent, 
Seems  sometimes  at  the  base  of  all  our  woes, 
As  in  the  present  case  the  sequel  shows. 

Thetis,  of  course,  desiring  to  make 
Everything  pleasant  to  her  guests  of  state, 
Omitted  Eris  from  her  party  list, 
Knowing  her  presence  would  be  gladly  missed. 

Now  this  same  Eris  was  a  wicked  dame — 

"  Goddess  of  Discord  "  was  her  earthly  name — 


66 


THE  JUDGMENT  OF  PARIS. 


And  being  incensed  at  this  mortal  slight, 
— Immortal  incense  oft  burns  very  bright — , 
Resolved  upon  a  very  cunning  joke, 
To  vex  the  ladies  and  the  gods  provoke. 


Just  as  the  supper  had  got  well  begun, 

And  wine  was  flowing  fast,  'mid  mirth  and  fun, 

The  envious  goddess  through  the  Atrium  rolled 

A  large  round  apple,  made  of  solid  gold. 

Upon  it  was  inscribed,  in  letters  plain, 

"  The  fairest  woman  here  this  prize  shall  gain." 

Of  course  the  mortals  stood  no  chance  at  all, 

Frowned  down  by  goddesses  both  great  and  small 

And  so,  though  many  claimed  the  prize  in  heart, 

In  competition  dared  not  take  a  part. 

Among  the  ladies  of  immortal  fame, 

Who  stood  'mid  beauty's  ranks  in  foremost  name, 


67 


THE  JUDGMENT  OF  PARIS. 


Were  Venus,  Juno,  and  Minerva,  who 

Possessed  renown  for  loveliness  well  due. 

All  could  not  win  the  prize ;  and  who  should  choose 

Which  of  the  three  should  win,  and  which  should 

lose, 

Became  a  point  each  guest  desired  to  shun, 
And  leave  deciding  to  some  other  one. 
At  last  't  was  fixed,  by  general  assent, 
One  Paris  should  determine  whom  was  meant ; 
And  though  he  pleaded  ignorance  and  youth — 
The  first  excuse  not  very  near  the  truth — 
By  general  wish  he  was  compelled  to  act, 
And,  nolens  volens,  to  decide  the  fact. 


Alas  !  Immortals — sad  it  is  to  tell — 

Like  mortals,   sometimes  are  dishonest — well 

I  '11  say  no  more  ;  but  each  one  did  her  best 


68 


THE  JUDGMENT  OF  PARIS. 


To  bribe  poor  Paris,  and  outdo  the  rest. 
Minerva  offered  wealth,  and  Juno  power  ; 
But  Venus  beauty,  as  the  richest  dower ; 
So  youthful  Paris — there  he  was  not  wise — 
Called  Venus  fairest,  and  gave  her  the  prize. 


King  Menelaus,  chief  of  Sparta's  band, 
Possessed  the  fairest  wife  in  all  the  land. 
Helen  her  name ;  a  lovelier  form  and  face 
Never  had  poet  sung,  nor  artist  traced. 
Paris,  invoking  Venus'  promised  aid, 
A  visit  to  King  Menelaus  made ; 
Acted  the  traitor — spoiled  his  household  joy, 
And  carried  Helen  as  his  prize  to  Troy ; 
Whence  sprung  the  Trojan  war,  and  Paris'  fate 
Teaches  a  lesson  learned  by  him  too  late : 
To  flatter  no  one  at  another's  cost, 


69 


THE  JUDGMENT  OF  PARIS. 


Nor  to  provoke  a  woman — or  you  're  lost. 
For  Juno  and  Minerva,  in  their  spite 
At  Paris'  choice  on  Thetis'  wedding  night, 
Aided  the  Greeks  their  chieftain's  cause  to  gain 
And  Troy  was  captured,  and  its  hero  slain. 


PHAETHON'S   DRIVE. 


Once  on  a  time,  it  was  long  ago, 
When  gods  oft  came  to  this  world  below, 
And,  finding  it  rather  a  pleasant  place, 
Made  love  to  mortals ;  there  sprung  a  race 
Of  men  whose  origin,  part  divine, 
Ranked  them  above  the  common  kind. 
Now  one  of  these,  young  Phaethon, 
Sprung  from  Helios,  god  of  the  Sun, — 
Perhaps  as  Phoebus  you  know  him  best, 
Gods  oft  with  several  names  were  blest,— 
Feeling  insulted  at  being  told 
That  he  was  merely  of  mortal  mold, 


PHAETHON'S  DRIVE. 

Wishing  to  prove  it  a  falsehood  base, 

And  show  him  above  the  human  race, 

Begged  his  father,  god  of  the  Sun, 

To  grant  him  a  favor,  a  wish, — just  one. 

The  promise  given  beyond  recall, 

(For  gods  keep  pledges,  though  mortals  fall) 

The  youth  determined  to  prove  his  birth 

By  some  grand  deed,  to  the  sons  of  earth. 

Now  Phaethon,  though  a  fine  young  man, 

Was  rather  fast, — so  the  fable  ran, — 

And  among  his  follies, — there  might  be  worse,- 

Was  a  love  for  driving  a  rapid  horse. 

The  speed  and  beauty  of  Phoebus'  car, 

As  it  spread  the  morning  light  afar, 

Had  oft  inflamed  in  his  breast  desire 

To  hold  the  reins  o'er  those  steeds  of  fire. 

And  now,  thought  he,  the  wish  I  '11  ask 

Is  to  assume  the  pleasing  task 

Of  driving  the  chariot  for  a  day, 


PHAETHON' S  DRIVE. 

And  prove  to  mortals  I  know  the  way 
To  handle  horses,  as  well  as  show 
I  'm  not  descended  from  men  below. 


With  sore  misgiving  the  Sun-god  heard 

The  wish  of  Phaethon ;  in  a  word, 

To  trust  to  another  hand,  untried, 

Those  flaming  steeds  o'er  their  course  to  guide, 

He  fain  would  not ;  but  his  word  was  given, 

And  though  to  Hades  the  car  be  driven, 

He  could  not  help  it ;  so  gave  the  reins 

To  his  son,  to  drive  o'er  the  airy  plains. 

For  a  time  with  Phaethon  all  went  well; 

But  suddenly  it  by  chance  befell 

The  steeds  got  frightened,  they  dashed  away, 

Vain  the  attempt  their  course  to  stay, 

Though  Phaethon  strove  with  them  to  cope, 


73 


PHAETHOfTS  DRIVE. 

Strained  every  nerve,  in  the  eager  hope 
To  check  their  speed  ;  immortal  power 
Must  lend  its  aid  in  that  dread  hour. 
The  car  was  swaying  from  side  to  side ; 
The  steeds  with  fiery  nostrils  wide 
Rushed  madly  on  through  the  fleeting  night, 
Wrapping  the  world  in  a  blaze  of  light, 
Till  it  was  threatened  with  danger  dire 
Of  quick  destruction  by  Phoebus'  fire. 
The  goddess  Earth,  in  sore  alarm, 
Applied  to  Jupiter,  that  from  harm 
He  would  protect  her  fair  domain, 
The  horses  wild  in  their  course  restrain, 
And  punish  Phaethon  for  his  pride, 
In  ranking  himself  a  god  beside. 
So  Jupiter,  raising  his  arm  on  high, 
Launched  a  thunderbolt  through  the  sky, 
That  from  the  car  young  Phaethon  hurled, 
Stopped  the  horses  and  saved  the  world. 


74 


PHAETHON  'S  DRIVE. 

Into  a  river  the  driver  fell, 

There  perished,  the  fable  tells  us  : — Well, 

Whether  he  ended  his  brief  career 

In  *Eridanus,  or  not,  't  is  clear 

The  moral  to  us  remains  the  same, 

That  we  have  only  ourselves  to  blame 

When  aping  our  betters,  we  strive  to  be 

Above  our  station  in  life,  and  see 

Our  pride  oft  humbled,  our  hopes  in  vain, 

Our  chief  desire  the  greatest  bane. 

*  The  river  Eridanus,  now  the  Po. 


ORPHEUS   AND   EURYDICE. 


There  's  a  quaint  old  story  you  all  may  know, 
How  Orpheus  went  to  the  world  below, 
Seeking  in  Pluto's  realm  if  he 
Could  find  his  wife  Eurydice. 
Striking  his  tuneful  lyre,  he  strayed 
Up  and  down  in  the  gloomy  shade, 
Through  shadowy  forms  once  full  of  life, 
Singing,  "  Oh  !  where  can  I  find  my  wife  ?  " 


76 


ORPHE  US  A  ND  E  UR  YD  ICE. 


At  last  he  found  her;  no  need  to  say 
She  was  ready  enough  to  get  away. 
But  how  to  do  it  ? — for  '  facilis  est 
Descensus  Averni  ' — you  know  the  rest — . 
But  coming  back  to  the  upper  world 
Is  a  very  different  thing,  I  'm  told  ; 
And  to  Orpheus'  mind  it  was  very  plain 
Permission  of  Pluto  he  first  must  gain, 
E'er  he  could  carry  his  wife  away 
Unto  the  regions  of  the  day. 


Now  Orpheus  was  famed  both  far  and  near 
In  music  :  his  lyre  so  sweet  and  clear 
Had  even  power  the  beasts  to  charm. 
Birds  of  the  air,  free  from  alarm, 


77 


ORPHE  US  AND  E  UR  YDICE. 


Surrounded  him  whene'er  he  played. 

E'en  leaves  and  brooks  their  motions  stayed 

To  hear  his  music. — And  now  to  bring 

His  talent  to  use,  and  Hades'  king 

To  charm  with  his  lyre  till  he  agree 

The  fair  Eurydice  to  free, 

Became  his  task ; — With  hope  and  fear 

He  sought  the  palace  of  Pluto  near. 


He  struck  the  chords  with  a  skilful  hand  ; 
Never  had  music  so  fine  and  grand 
Been  heard  before ;  as  the  sound  increased 
All  Hades  gathered,  its  noises  ceased  ; 
Tantalus  even  his  thirst  forgot, 
The  wheel  of  Ixion  was  turning  not, 


ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE. 


And  Pluto  himself,  with  royal  grace, 
Sat  listening  with  a  joyful  face. 


Suffice  it  that  Orpheus  his  wish  obtained, 

Upon  condition  that  till  he  gained 

The  realms  of  earth,  he  should  take  the  lead, 

Eurydice/tf/Awy  and  if  indeed 

On  the  upward  course  he  should  backward  glance, 

The  pact  was  broken,  —  and  lost  the  chance 

Of  seeing  again  his  fair  young  wife  ; 

And  she  in  Hades  should  pass  her  life. 

The  fact  is  patent,  —  'tis  strange,  but  true,  — 

Jf  't  is  forbidden  to  one  to  do 

A  certain  thing,  you  will  always  see 

The  chief  desire  that  thing  will  be 


79 


ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE. 


Well,  Orpheus'  case  was  like  all  the  rest ; 

He  could  not  obey  that  one  behest. 

He  turned  ;  she  vanished  ;  and  he  was  thrown 

Suddenly  into  the  world  alone. 

His  lot  was  hard,  but  you  '11  all  agree 

'T  was  harder  for  poor  Eurydice. 


This  fable  points  us  two  morals  :  one, — 
Never  look  back  when  your  work  's  begun. 
The  other, — remember,  a  thoughtless  deed 
To  lifelong  sorrow  a  friend  may  lead. 


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